


Waiting's end

by taralynden



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Developing Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taralynden/pseuds/taralynden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new year brings new opportunities (and some general confusion)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting's end

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the PxJ comm April challenge "Less than lovers, more than friends"  
> Originally published on FF.net as part of "Prowl & Jazz challenges"

_31 December_   
_11:57 pm_

"You may go and join in the festivities." Prowl offered into the quiet of the empty command centre. "I can manage here."

The words startled Jazz out of his viewing of a new music video Blaster had found for him, and he realised that it was getting late.

"Nah, it's cool. Human new year celebrations come round pretty fast - I'll get to the next one. Besides, you worked through Christmas on your own again an' that ain't right. You need to take some breaks, mech; even Red's relented finally."

"It's good that he did." Prowl nodded agreeably, tweaking one of the controls to get a slightly different readout. "As for me, just not having to watch over our troublemakers for a shift is enough of a relief. Your suggestion that Sideswipe and Cliffjumper and Ironhide accompany Optimus to deliver gifts to the city's poor was inspired."

Jazz chuckled, pacing over to where Prowl was sitting and draping an arm casually over his shoulder.

"I'm gonna tell Hide you count him as one o'your troublemakers."

"Please do, if you think it'll have any positive effect."

A muted roar from elsewhere in the _Ark_ announced the shift into the new year, and Jazz had a sudden wicked impulse.

"Happy new year, Prowl."

"And to you."

"It's traditional to greet with a kiss."

Well, sort of. But he could talk his way around it if Prowl chose to argue. Thankfully, the SIC simply turned in his chair to face him.

"Indeed?"

Jazz smiled, leaning in.

"Happy new year."

It was only supposed to be a quick peck; dart in before Prowl had time to react and then pull away and look innocent. But as he started with a gentle brush across Prowl's lips he found the gesture returned. Encouraged, he adjusted his weight and added a little more pressure, hand tightening on back of Prowl's chair as he fought the urge to do more than simply kiss.

After what felt like forever and simultaneously not nearly long enough, they mutually parted just enough to break contact and Prowl sighed softly.

"I've always wanted to do that."

"Me too." Jazz agreed dazedly, then registered the words and stared at him in shock. "You what?"

Prowl immediately looked flustered, shaking his head and pulling away.

"Nothing, I... Wait. You've wanted to kiss me?"

Jazz nodded slowly.

"For ages. I thought you'd be offended."

"I didn't think you were interested."

Jazz laughed softly, still not quite believing that this was actually happening.

"All this time workin' together an' never..."

He was interrupted by a message from Blaster demanding his presence in the rec room to settle a bet.

"You had best go." Prowl nodded. "They'll wonder why, if you don't."

"I'd rather stay here."

Prowl looked away.

"We need to talk, and I don't think we should do that while on duty."

"Later, then?"

"Yes. Later."

* * *

 _2:01 am_

Prowl caught himself tracing his lips again in memory of the kiss, and again forced himself to stop. Making Jazz leave had done little to improve his concentration. He should be paying close attention to the automated reports, watching for anomalies; instead he found himself repeatedly replaying those unexpected moments, needing to confirm that it had been real. Seeking reassurance.

He had been Prime's personal advisor long before the war had begun, helping Sentinel Prime to navigate the increasingly tangled political world to get the results he wanted, then shifting to Optimus after Sentinel was assassinated. That Optimus had required a battle tactician rather than a political advisor had not bothered him in the least: the roles were much the same in many ways, and he was happy enough to have the militaristic upgrades if it meant he could defend his Prime next time, rather than being forced to watch helplessly.

In all those vorns, he had never met anyone quite like Jazz.

There had been dire predictions long before they ever met that the two of them would clash, but they had proven the critics wrong. They were very different, certainly, but they also accepted their boundaries. Prowl did not interfere with Jazz's agents, Jazz did not interfere with Prowl's work, and they were united in the light of a single vision: the Decepticons must not win.

That common goal averted many of the problems they might have had. That, and...

Prowl grunted in dismay as he found his fingers again rubbing against his lips and put them firmly to work typing up a summary of the data on screen. Usually he would have run it through an automatic compiler, but there was satisfaction in doing it manually sometimes.

Besides, it kept his attention on his work and off Jazz

* * *

 _3:47 am_

Dancing suited him just fine, right now. It meant he did not have to talk to anyone, he could lose himself in his thoughts without being asked if anything was wrong, and at the same time it burned off nervous energy.

He could easily have excused himself by now and gone back to the control centre, but he knew Prowl more than well enough to know that once he had made a decision he would stick with it. Thus, there would be no more discussion - let alone more - until they were both safely off duty.

Which led to him being here, dancing maniacally as though he were drunk like some of the others in the room. He could not bring himself to go to his empty berth alone just now and he would certainly not be taking anyone else there tonight.

His jaw clenched and he ducked his head to hide his scowl.

Initially he had been ecstatic with how well it had gone. Prowl liked him _back_. He had never truly believed that that might be so. He had fantasised about making compelling arguments to sway him, or alternatively simply pouncing on him and convincing him through practical demonstration, but he had never once allowed himself to think the infatuation was currently more than one-sided.

He had admired Prowl from afar long before they ever met; admired, but not loved. That had taken vorns of working together to develop.

He still remembered the moment when he had realised that what he felt was more than just friendship. A thoroughly inappropriate revelation in the middle of a briefing of his own staff. He could not pinpoint exactly what it had been about that moment, but it had hit him with all the force of a gestalt's punch. He loved Prowl.

It was ridiculous, he had decided immediately. Prowl was not his type. Just because they managed to get along at work did not mean he wanted to spend his off-duty time with the pedant. He had a rep to maintain and a job to do, and none of that fit comfortably with being stuck with Prowl, no matter how pretty he was.

Over time that attitude had modulated as he got to know the mech better, but Prowl was still a prude. A friend, maybe, but certainly not a lifemate, and he did not seem the type to accept less than that. Jazz would not change himself to suit someone else.

The irony of it now burned.

His reaction had been to increase his off-duty diversions, looking for something that he never found. By the time he came around to the truth - catching himself perilously close to crying out Prowl's name while in Smokey's berth - he was in a quandry. He knew now that he wanted Prowl, but what chance was there that Prowl would want him back?

Prowl had never commented one way or the other about his liaisons, but he could not possibly approve. Even though his 'sleeping around' had reduced significantly, it did not change the fact that Prowl _knew_ what he was like.

The only way to prove his commitment, he had decided, was to devote himself entirely to the mech he loved. But that was not something he could afford to do while the war was on. There were times when he and Prowl disagreed on necessary actions, times when members of the crew needed support or comfort, things that he needed to do because no-one else would.

Which was why he should not have started this tonight. But he had never, ever dreamed that Prowl might feel the same and he had thought the stolen kiss would be a memory to treasure while he waited for the right moment. The moment which had now suddenly come. Which meant...

It meant he did not know what to do next.

"Hey Jazz!"

"Yeah, Sides? Whoa, easy mech, you're not that stable!"

He caught Sideswipe's arm to balance him as the mech nearly tripped over his own pedes. Drunk, clearly.

"We're gonna have a race. You in?"

"We?"

"Me and ... uh, well no-one else wants to. But I wanna _drive_."

"You know it's rainin' out there, right?"

"Yeah. That's why Sunny won't come. Please?"

Jazz weighed up the options. He could refuse and Sideswipe might end up going on his own and they would almost certainly have to go looking for him... Well, it would be a bit mucky, but could be fun. It would fill in a few hours, too.

"Yeah, sure, why not. Lets go."

* * *

 _6:12 am_

Prowl let the door slide shut behind him and cast a critical gaze across the furnishings of his room. The space was plain, functional, not overly cluttered. As the SIC he had an antechamber and private washrack in addition to the actual berthroom which itself was not very large. He could have had more furnishings, but the desk, chair and couch had been all he had ever needed.

Perhaps that was about to change.

Jazz's position as third officer earned him the same space, but when the _Ark_ had crashed much of the accommodation space had been lost, and he had voluntarily given up his room to Ironhide and Ratchet who had lost theirs, choosing to move in with Blaster, amongst the crew. It was an arrangement that had its benefits: Jazz often heard of things before they happened and could step in or pass on warnings as needed. He made it plain from the outset that he was not going to stand in the way of harmless pranking, and while Prowl had some concerns about his definition of 'harmless' he had accepted that.

Without private space of his own, Jazz had long since settled into a pattern of using Prowl's antechamber when he needed some quiet time. After his shift he would often come to chat or play a game or doze on the couch. More often than not, if he returned exhausted or injured from a difficult mission, he preferred to be there to in the open access area of the main accommodation wing. He said he felt safe there.

Some of those times, Prowl insisted on him using the berth rather than the couch. Never at the same time as his own rest period, of course, but there was a quiet thrill in just making that offer, a fluttery feeling of rightness which came with the thought of Jazz lying in his berth.

That fluttery feeling was now so intense he dared not fuel for fear of immediately purging it again. All too soon, perhaps they would be sharing that space, and more.

This was ridiculous, he scolded himself. It was not as though he was an untouched innocent; he had had lovers, of course he had. Not many, but a few.

Well, two. And none since Sentinel's death, which suddenly struck him as an incomprehensibly long time.

"Primus." he muttered, sinking down into a chair. "What am I doing?"

Jazz had had many lovers. Most of the crew of the _Ark_ at one point or another, for a start. He went into these things so casually; to him such intimacy was as normal and banal as fuelling or writing a report.

He probably saw this as just another of those diversions. A bit of fun with a friend, nothing special. And afterwards he would move on, just as he always did, and everything would remain the same.

Prowl stared bleakly at the couch. Could he bear that? After all the vorns he had secretly cherished the hope that they might eventually have something special together, could he accept that they would not? Jazz was his friend, but had so many other friends and had shared with so many of his other friends...

"I'll have to bear it." he told himself, speaking the words aloud to reinforce them. "I can't miss this chance now I have it. It may not come again. Just please Primus help me not ruin this."

* * *

 _8:38 am_

Jazz held his head in his hands, Blaster's laugh and offhand comment echoing in the silence of the empty washrack.

 _"So who was the lucky mech last night?"_

It was not Blaster's fault. They joked about his berth-hopping often enough, and it was never a big deal. Although he withheld names out of courtesy, the current crew was too small for secrets like that to be kept for long. Everyone always found out and that never mattered either.

It mattered now.

Prowl was intensely private. When he smiled, it was major news to the gossipmongers; when he made a joke, Ratchet was summoned in case a processor freeze was imminent. When he laughed... Actually, as far as Jazz knew no-one else in the crew had ever heard their second in command laugh.

Jazz himself may lose that privilege himself if this went badly, and he was not sure he could bear that.

"Why did I kiss him?" he growled at himself, slamming his palm against the controls so the rushing water would cover his words in case someone happened to pass by. "I _know_ better."

Over the vorns he had built a vision of the future where the war ended and in that moment of celebration he would pull Prowl aside and bare his soul and they would live together in the ensuing peace. Idealistic, perhaps, but sometimes it was the only dream he had left to cling to. When things went badly, at least Prowl was still there waiting. He dared not shift that balance, would not attempt to push his luck by asking for more earlier, and with each passing vorn he was sure that Primus was watching over them.

Coming online on Earth to the shock of learning that half the crew had been lost and those they had left behind had mostly died in the intervening millennia had made many of the survivors think hard about their relationships. Why wait and risk being left alone?

That fear had convinced him to act, but even so he had made a conscious decision to wait a little longer. The timing had to be right. If it went wrong, no-one must know he had even tried - not that he feared for his own reputation, but for Prowl's. They were both professional enough to continue to work together, but the gossip would hurt him and their friendship would fall apart.

"Please, Primus." he prayed, staring at the floor beneath him even though he knew that Cybertron was upwards from here. "Please. Don't let me hurt him. Don't let me muck this up."

* * *

 _8:58 am_

"Mornin'."

Prowl looked up in surprise, then continued to check that he had all of the data he needed for the next meeting.

"Good morning. Why are you here?"

"Got nothin' better t'do."

"Ooh, careful Jazz, he'll find you something to do." Cliffjumper warned as he passed by.

Prowl subspaced all but one of the pads and headed out the door, Jazz hurrying to follow and speaking softly.

"You got a few clicks to chat?"

"I have a meeting with Optimus."

"How 'bout I walk you there?"

"It's only eighteen steps away."

"Trust you t'know the exact number. You could walk slow."

"I told you before that we would not discuss this on duty." Prowl reminded him, obliging, then spoke more softly. "I thought you might have stopped by earlier."

Jazz shrugged.

"Ended up takin' care o'Sides. Lost track o'time."

Prowl frowned, wondering what trouble the twin had been getting into for Jazz to feel the need to intervene, and whether he would have to deal with the fallout later.

"I see. Well any further discussion will have to wait until after this meeting. Unless there's an attack, we should both be off duty until midday."

"I'll wait in your room." Jazz promised, sounding suddenly serious.

Prowl glanced at him, surprised and somewhat concerned by the abrupt change of mood, but then Optimus noticed them in the doorway and Jazz's sober expression morphed into his familiar warm grin and the moment was lost.

* * *

 _9:01 am_

In spite of much joking from others that it did not exist, Jazz did in fact have an office. It came in handy right now as somewhere to duck into for some privacy where he could swear loudly without upsetting anyone else.

His processor was apparently running on minimal power this morning. 'Taking care of Sides'? How stupid could he be? The words had escaped before he even realised what it sounded like, and then Prowl had frowned and his words had been coolly formal and he had not even responded to the suggestion that Jazz would wait for him.

He _had_ intended to join Prowl once Gears and Perceptor took over for the next duty shift, but Sideswipe had been drunk and they had driven further than he intended and it had taken time to guide him back. The slippery mud and deep puddles had not helped.

How could this all be going so badly already? He had never before cared if a prospective berthmate knew his past, in fact he had been proud of it. This situation with Prowl was utterly foreign, and was now making him feel guilty when he had not even done anything to feel guilt over.

There was only one solution. He was going to have to commit to Prowl now. Completely. No more flirting with others, he would take this seriously. And he would hold back. He was willing to wait as long as it took to convince Prowl that his feelings were genuine. He would wait.

Prowl was worth it.

* * *

 _9:34 am_

"Lemme talk first." Jazz insisted as Prowl stepped into his room. "Please."

Jazz looked tense, but that was surely wrong. He was not the one who had anything to be nervous about.

Prowl closed and locked the door, grabbing a few clicks longer to compose himself. Just how _did_ these seductions take place? Were they supposed to get drunk first, or did they just progress straight to the berth? It was not a situation he had ever dreamed of being in; no-one had ever found him desirable enough in that casual way to attempt it, and with his two previous lovers the situation had been different. He would just have to follow Jazz's lead.

"Very well, if you insist."

"I didn't do anythin' with Sides except a bit o'racin' tonight." Jazz blurted. "Never even thought of it, I was thinkin' about you. An' I want you t'know I ain't lookin' to rush anythin'. If you wanna wait for a bit, I'm cool with that. Honest. I really don't wanna blow this."

Prowl stared at him, reassessing what he was seeing. Jazz _was_ nervous, and for the opposite reasons to his own. The irony was abruptly clear and startled him into quiet laugh as he moved to the couch and motioned for Jazz to join him.

"What's funny?" Jazz asked suspiciously.

"We are. Had you permitted me to have my say first, I would have told you I was prepared to go at your speed, whatever you felt appropriate, though it has been awhile. I think we're both overcompensating for what we think the other wants."

Jazz sank down onto the couch, making small unconscious changes to his structure so he could curl his pedes under himself, graceful as always.

"I would never go faster than you were comfortable with."

"And I would not expect you to hold back entirely. In fact, I was rather hoping you would not."

"Not even gonna look away when you make suggestions like that?" Jazz teased, clearly having regained his confidence.

"Should I?"

Jazz smirked and covered the remaining distance, nudging Prowl back against the end of the couch and kissing him firmly before pulling away again.

"You're right. We were bein' stupid. But now I've gotcha I ain't lettin' ya go again. You're all I ever wanted, y'know."

"I have long felt the same about you."

"Then why didn't ya say anythin'?"

"Why did you not, yourself?"

Jazz looked briefly troubled and Prowl stole a quick kiss to distract him away from his worries.

"We had our reasons." he summarised. "But apparently they were invalid."

"Apparently." Jazz mused, his head tilting to the side. "Seriously, Prowler, is this really gonna work? I don't know if I'll cope too well if it doesn't, an' we do have t'keep workin' t'gether."

"We'll just have to keep working at it."

Jazz considered that quietly for a moment, then a smile grew on his lips.

"Now. What was that you were sayin' about not holdin' back?"

* * *

 _12:02 pm_

"That's odd."

"What?"

"Prowl's late putting out the rosters."

"The twins've probably gotten into something."

"I guess. Jazz is missing too, though. You don't think...?"

There was a pause, then the group laughed.

"Nah. Just wouldn't happen."


	2. The end of the world as we know it

_12:08 pm_

Red Alert muttered dire things as he stalked along the corridor. His cameras had shown him Prowl returning to his quarters after his regular meeting with Prime, and the SIC had not re-emerged. That generally meant interference of one kind or another.

Either someone had done something to make him glitch, in which case he needed Ratchet; or he had worked himself to exhaustion, in which case again he needed Ratchet; or someone had played a prank on him which had resulted in him being trapped in his quarters and unable to summon assistance, in which case Red Alert would have to go to his rescue. Or the world was ending.

One of those, and far more likely one of the first three.

It was not actually as if Prowl was missing a duty shift. He was not on duty again until morning, in fact. But on duty or not he _always_ posted the next day's schedule at noon, and he _always_ double-checked and filed the security report, and he _always_ checked in to see that everything was running smoothly.

None of this had happened this morning, which meant something was wrong. And since Prowl did not permit things to go wrong when he was in control, something - or some _one_ , he was sure was more likely - had taken that control from him.

Reaching the SIC's quarters, he did not pause to call across the comm system. After all, Prowl had not made contact so it was very unlikely he was able to respond. Best to simply act quickly and get this over with.

Typing his override into the door's keypad he swept inside, then stopped in shock, his optics initially having difficulty registering what he was seeing. There was a figure in black and white armour on the couch, but he seemed to have too many limbs, including two legs wrapped around his own neck...

The scene came into abrupt focus with a twisting movement and he saw a brilliant blue visor tilt up towards him from an awkward angle.

"Prowl's a bit busy right now, Red, y'mind comin' back later?"

"Kguh. Gnnn. Argh!"

Red Alert fled, pressing himself up against the wall opposite the now-closed door and staring in horror.

It was not so much that Prowl was sharing with Jazz - practically everyone had, at some point - his hand had been... and _his_ hand had been... and they had been... _And it was the middle of the day!_

He felt his processors starting to stall. Who would have guessed they were both that flexible?

"Red?" Wheeljack asked, walking past. "You okay?"

"The world is ending." he said numbly.

"Oh." Wheeljack commented vaguely, pausing, then smiled and patted him comfortingly on the shoulder. "I wouldn't worry, I'm sure Prowl will fix it. It's amazing what he's capable of."

Red Alert whimpered. Jack had no idea. None at all.

* * *

_1:12 pm_

The roster had finally gone up, but it was peculiar enough to raise comment. Neither Prowl nor Jazz were on the roster at all - they were both down as off duty except in the case of an emergency. And Red Alert had been taken off duty too, though his was for medical leave on Ratchet's authority which was not particularly uncommon.

Groups of Autobots congregated in worried clusters. Was there a major offensive in the works? They had to be involved in some heavy-duty plotting, to pull out of their usual tasks. But why now? What had changed?

Listening from the vents, Laserbeak and Ravage looked at each other anxiously. Unprecedented events usually meant trouble, particularly where the Autobot tactician and chief of special operations were involved. Soundwave had to hear about this immediately.

* * *

_3:28 pm_

Optimus nodded solemnly to another knot of anxious soldiers, offering reassurance but not lingering.

Everyone was nervous about the upcoming battle, which would make sense if only there was one coming.

It was always possible that Prowl had left their daily briefing and then been updated with new information by Jazz, but then why would they do the planning in his quarters and not his office? And why would they not bring the rest of the command team up to speed on the situation?

There had been nothing at all of concern in Prowl's report this morning. They had discussed the small decrease in energon consumption linked to the recent good weather; Huffer and Brawn's progress in establishing a small armaments manufactory in the depths of one of the mountain's caves which would help them replenish dwindling stocks; the public relations impact of the gift distribution over Christmas and the possibility of turning it into an annual event.

"Prime!" Trailbreaker called to him. "We've got a call from the _Nemesis_. From Megatron."

Now what? Or was this just the start of whatever had upset his Second and Third? Why in the name of Primus was he in this position of not knowing what was going on?

Glad as always for his ever-present battle mask, he strode into the command centre and stopped in front of the main screen.

"What do you want, Megatron?"

The gunmech sneered at him.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Prime."

"And what would that be?"

In truth, he was quite curious. From the background he could hear Starscream arguing with someone, and a phrase made it through the comm in the brief silence.

"...overreaction to something that could be nothing at all!"

Megatron growled.

"Play innocent if you choose. My Decepticons are not going to fall for your trap, we have increased our defenses and are ready for you when you come. You will not catch _us_ unprepared."

The screen went blank as the connection was cut, leaving him none the wiser.

"So we _are_ going after them, Prime?" Ironhide asked eagerly.

Optimus turned away.

"Patience, my friend. All will be revealed in good time."

Hopefully to him, first.

* * *

_6:32 pm_

Prowl collected his evening energon ration and moved to his usual table, sipping at it as he read over the datapad in his hand.

Bluestreak sat down across the table from him, watching anxiously but saying nothing, and after a moment Prowl lowered his datapad and regarded the gunner curiously.

"Can I help you with something, Bluestreak?"

The question seemed to be the trigger the grey Praxian needed.

"Is it true? Are we really going to rout the Decepticons? How? Why now? I mean, they're a long way under the sea and really hard to get at and it seems really dangerous and most of us can't swim any better than they can. I know you've probably got some great plan for how it'll work, you always keep us safe, well, when you can, and you wouldn't send us out on something that _wasn't_ safe when you had a choice, but this seems kinda risky and they already know we're planning something even though we don't know _how_ they know..."

Jazz had entered during Bluestreak's monologue and now paused beside the table.

"Y'know, if you were tryin' t'plan somethin' y'shoulda just said."

"I assure you, I achieved every objective I had planned for, plus a few more."

Jazz's visor sparkled with mischief.

"Oh yeah? So you're bored o'me already, then?"

Prowl reached out and took Jazz's hand, tugging him down into his lap - somewhere he was quite willing to go - and kissing him soundly.

"No." he said when they broke off. "Not yet."

"Well _that's_ a relief." Jazz chuckled, stealing Prowl's cube of energon and drinking almost all of it. "Ooh, needed that." he declared, sliding out of Prowl's lap and stealing another quick kiss. "Well, if there's a mission on I'd better go talk t'the boss. I'll shift m'stuff in later."

"That's fine." Prowl agreed, watching him leave, then turned his attention back to Bluestreak. "Now explain again why the Decepticons believe we are about to attack them?"

Bluestreak's jaw had dropped and the mech was silent. In fact, everyone in the room was staring at him in some degree of shock.

"You mean..." Smokescreen choked, "all this time you two've been... You weren't working at all?"

"We were both off duty." Prowl pointed out mildly. "Beyond that, it's no-one's business but our own."

"But you're both so different!" Windcharger blurted. "It'll never work."

"Perhaps, but that is our concern not yours. Now, about the Decepticons?"

There was a brief silence, then Trailbreaker spoke up.

"They were probably spying on us. When you two disappeared, we thought it was so you could plan a fresh assault on them - well that's what it's always meant before." he added defensively before continuing. "Megatron called Prime and said they were ready for whatever you were planning, and we haven't heard from them since. But if they knew you were just..."

"Pronging each other." Sideswipe put in helpfully, apparently regaining his equilibrium quicker than some of the others.

Trailbreaker coughed, embarrassed, but Prowl had already grasped the situation.

"Well." he said thoughtfully. "If it is the case that the absence of Jazz and myself has led to this misunderstanding, perhaps we should prolong the situation in order to gain the maximum benefit from it. If you will excuse me."

He left them gaping again and strode out heading towards the command centre only to find Jazz heading back towards him looking slightly irritated.

"You caught up on what's goin' on? Talk about makin' assumptions. Stupid fraggers think you have a one-track processor."

"Perhaps I do." Prowl offered, gesturing towards the corridor back to his quarters. "Since we are clearly not needed out here, shall we test that assumption?"

Jazz's irritation melted away and he laughed and linked his arm with Prowl's.

"Lead on, mech, I'm all yours."

* * *

The end.


End file.
